


Naivete

by KrysMcScience



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: At least half flashback, Dubious Consent, Goku has no tact and also no shame - EVER, Intense social awkwardness, M/M, Manipulation, Massive social ineptitude, Nosy allies, Only a few characters actually get speaking lines, Pedophilia, Piccolo and Gohan are spared the gross sex talk, Referenced Bulma/Yamcha (on-and-off), Referenced Goku/Chi-Chi, Sexual Grooming, Statutory Rape, Three Year Gap, Vegeta doesn't bother remembering names mostly, how the fUCK DO TAGS WORK??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2019-03-28 23:41:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13914651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KrysMcScience/pseuds/KrysMcScience
Summary: Vegeta has never seen anything abnormal about his past with Freeza. His tentative allies have to disagree.





	Naivete

**Author's Note:**

> Technically an old piece, written during a dark time, but since tumblr is having a Vegeta/Freeza week (and particularly a Pet/Master prompt), I figured I'd dust this thing off and finally post it. I was attempting to put a new twist on an old trope. It's up to you to decide if I succeeded.
> 
> In case the tags aren't enough, here's a final warning: This shit's fucked up.

Vegeta doesn’t really recognize any potential problems when the topic comes up. He doesn’t even really know why he actually joins in on the conversation. It could be that he’s so wiped out from training, or just content enough from his recent meal, that the thought of keeping his mouth shut takes just a few minutes too long to cross his mind. But when the Earth warriors are all gathered together at Capsule Corporation, on the insistance of Bulma (despite having only two years left before the androids appear), and start up banter over intimate affairs after a few untoward comments by the turtle hermit, the Saiyan prince still finds himself somehow dragged into the whole discussion.

“Hey, Vegeta! Not to be rude, but we’ve kinda got a bet going as to whether you are or not, so...are you a virgin?”

The word means nothing to him. While he _has_ been more or less paying attention (if only out of boredom), most of what they’ve actually been talking about thus far has gone over his head, because the majority of the bizarre words they're throwing around – 'sex', 'dick', 'cooch', and a plethora of others – don't mean anything to him, either. He ends up just blinking at the blue-haired woman, then around at the others, and though he doesn’t offer much of an expression, they still catch on to his confusion. The scarred weakling he shares the compound with attempts to help him out with some clarification. “She’s asking if you’ve ever had sex with anyone, man.”

The helpless little giggle the bald monk gives is mildly annoying to Vegeta. As much as he knows by now that the humans won’t actually make fun of him just to be cruel, he still doesn’t care to be laughed at. “I think just having to say that is a good enough answer, isn’t it?” the monk jokes, and the look he sends the prince’s way is equal parts playful and apologetic.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Vegeta grumbles finally, rolling his eyes and sinking back further into the couch cushions. He crosses his arms and doesn’t look at any of them, feeling somewhat belittled, even if they haven’t outright teased him for his ignorance. A few of them chuckle, driving him on the verbal defensive, but the room goes strangely quiet when he grunts, “Stop expecting me to understand your gibberish words.”

The quiet brings him to glance around, wondering if he’s somehow said something wrong. Earth inhabitants are occasionally upset by what he has to say, even if what he’s saying is completely ordinary and inoffensive. That doesn’t seem to be the case this time, though. The women are incredulous, much as the old hermit and ex-bandit, like they can’t quite believe their ears, while the monk and the three-eyed warrior just appear surprised. Only the triclops’ partner and Kakarot look unfazed, the latter even sporting a mildly curious expression on his face.

Having so many people stare at him has Vegeta’s face warming, annoyance creeping up, and he wishes he’d left the room with the Namekian (who’d taken the half-breed brat along with him) as soon as the topic had been broached. “ _What?_ ” he bites out at them irritably, arms tightening over his chest, and near him, Bulma shakes her head as if to clear it.

“Are you seriously saying you don’t know what _sex_ is?” she asks him in bewilderment, like it’s really a huge deal that needs to be addressed.

Or maybe it is? Vegeta honestly has no idea.

When Vegeta only shrugs one shoulder noncommitally, and goes on to either shrug or shake his head at each additional question the humans pelt him with to further confirm his lack of knowledge, Kakarot finally takes it in himself to speak up. “Come on, guys. If he doesn’t know, askin’ him about it ain't gonna do you much good, is it?” He grins at Vegeta then, and, before he can be stopped, follows up with what he surely thinks is a helpful explanation. It’s only what he says that keeps the prince from scowling at him. “Sex is when you get naked with someone else and mash your private parts together for fun,” Kakarot tells him, grinning without any shame at all as he gives a far-too-obvious flap of a hand down towards his own crotch. “It feels great!”

His wife makes an awful face at that, even worse than the psychic runt, but a few of his friends laugh; Bulma like he’s being ‘cute’, the monk and hermit like the words are just what one would expect from Kakarot, and the scarred moron like he can’t believe the man actually said that. Vegeta doesn’t laugh, or even roll his eyes like the triclops, because regardless of how bad of an explanation the low-class just gave, it does the trick. He now knows _exactly_ what the others have been talking about, _and_ what they’ve been trying to ask him.

The Earthlings apparently recognize that he’s caught on, not that he’s all that surprised; as soon as Kakarot had finished speaking, the prince’s brows had raised, expression clearing of any confusion. He’s being stared at again, but it’s with mixed interest and curiousity this time, so he doesn’t necessarily mind it. “Oh,” is all he says in response to the other Saiyan – that, and a mild nod, acknowledging that he understands. It also makes it painstakingly clear that he’s not altogether interested in the topic, and is even a little surprised that they're so openly discussing it. Regardless, whether because of how drowsy or full or content he is, Vegeta isn’t sure, he still adds on obligingly, “Never heard it called that before.”

Bulma tries to restate her own question then – not that he even knows why ‘virgin’ has to be a word to begin with – but Kakarot’s wife beats her to a different one. Her voice is louder, and more shrill, in a way that has Vegeta wondering how the low-class clown can even tolerate her. “What do _you_ call it?”

“I don’t call it anything,” he scoffs, eyes flicking skyward.

She’s not dissuaded by the comment, pressing on, “Well, what did _other_ people call it, then?”

Already bored with the topic, Vegeta shrugs one shoulder again, expression far-off as he recalls old figments of memory, not even looking at any of them when he answers. “Stress relief, mostly. Or ‘playtime’, when I was younger. That was what Freeza called it, anyway.” He’s not expecting the silence that sweeps the room, but it doesn’t really occur to him as something to be concerned about until he lowers his gaze.

The others are staring at him in barely-concealed horror.

For a moment, Vegeta thinks he must have made one of those offhand comments – not rude or strange to him in the least – that tend to ruffle the delicate sensibilities of those raised on Earth. But when Bulma speaks up, nervous and careful, as if thinking what _she_ has to say will offend _him_ , Vegeta isn’t quite so sure.

“Did he... _do_ something to you?”

He can’t help but snort at that. “Wow. That’s specific.” Bulma winces a little, biting at her lip like she can’t figure out how to say what she wants to, and she ends up looking over at her on-and-off mate in a silent request for help. The idiot just makes a useless gesture – ‘What do you expect _me_ to do?’ it says without words – before turning to the only person _he_ seems to think will be able to do anything.

Brow furrowed, as if he’s not sure what to think of what’s happening, Kakarot merely shrugs and asks Vegeta straight out, “Did you and Freeza have sex?”

Of course they did – many times. It’s such a dumb question, with such an obvious answer, that Vegeta just rolls his eyes and nods. It’s easy for him, admitting something that doesn’t matter, but it apparently matters greatly to everyone else in the room. Most of them are fidgeting, clearly feeling awkward, exchanging uncomfortable glances or watching him with a range of emotions that he doesn't particularly appreciate.

Dismay, disgust, concern... _pity_...

Vegeta feels suddenly overwhelmed, realizing that what he sees as a simple fact might not in actuality be so simple – not when his tentative allies are reacting to it in such a way – and that realization isn’t helped by Kakarot’s next question.

“Why?”

Once the word sinks in fully, all the prince can do is stare at his subject, confused and uncertain, unable to procure such an easy response the way he had before. _Why?_ Because...because...Vegeta doesn't really know. It was just a thing that he and Freeza had _always_ done, something that had been inevitable from the start of their relationship, an outcome certain to pass ever since his lord had called him ‘cute’, back when he’d been placed into the tyrant’s arms by his own father. Vegeta had grown used to Freeza’s constant presence whenever he wasn’t out on assignments for purging, because the man seemed to enjoy fawning over him. And despite the annoyance it brought, the Saiyan couldn’t deny that life in the planet trade would have been harder for him without the dictator so often acting as his shadow.

Freeza ensured Vegeta always got enough to eat – would sometimes even allow him sugared treats if he behaved. He escorted the boy to the training facilities – sitting and keeping watch every so often, offering plenty of advice and encouragement. He guided the prince through educational exercises – math, science, economics; any subject the tyrant excelled in, which was most of them. Sometimes he even involved himself in the Saiyan’s grooming – those times were among Vegeta's better, happier memories. He could recall them easily; hot baths with sweet-smelling bubbles...gentle hands scrubbing away the blood, sweat, and grime...soft and fluffy towels enveloping him in a warm bundle...

The tyrant was always incredibly thorough in Vegeta’s grooming, citing that hygiene was important, and the prince’s appearance afterward had seemed equally important to him. The boy’s hair and tail fur would be combed neatly for once, just before he’d be helped into a freshly cleaned bodysuit, and the armor that came with it. And every time, without fail, Freeza wrapped up the whole routine with a kiss to his forehead.

It all happened so often that it never occurred to Vegeta to think of it as strange, especially when every instance was always punctuated by the concern his lord expressed. No one else was lifting so much as a finger to raise the young Saiyan – “This just won’t do,” Freeza would say now and then – and so that left the task to his employer. It seemed so reasonable, and felt natural enough, that Vegeta saw nothing out of the ordinary in occasional fond touches, or being propped on the lizard’s lap, or having the man’s cold lips against his cheek or forehead.

The slow progression from simple closeness to more intimate contact hadn’t seemed out of the ordinary, either. It had felt casual, normal, having Freeza’s hands smoothing over his chest, or along the curve of his hip, just simple things his lord would do every now and again to show him affection, something he had been otherwise cruelly denied from anyone else, and sorely lacked at that age. Vegeta hadn’t minded, had in fact secretly relished having another person lavishing him with attention – _positive_ attention, no less – and so he hadn’t offered any protest. Even though he’d still hated Freeza on principle, the touches were harmless gestures as far as he was concerned; almost a comfort to him, in fact.

So when those touches eventually turned more daring, lingering over sensitive spots and drawing forth a pleasant heat in his center, Vegeta hadn’t minded then, either. It felt nice, having Freeza’s hands on him, and he saw no deeper meaning to any of it. At that age, just shy of eleven standard years, the prince hadn’t had any idea of what sex was, or what such intimacy normally entailed, so all the gentle caress of icy fingers over his covered nipples and groin meant to him was a subtle tingle, one that both he and his body found fully agreeable. If Vegeta was being honest, he’d actually rather liked it.

And as time wore on, and Freeza became less concerned with restraint, willing to slip his hands under fabric to wander directly over the Saiyan’s skin, Vegeta found that he liked _that_ even more. The pleasure his lord gave him didn’t change anything, nor did it make the prince hate the tyrant any less. It _did_ make him more willing to tolerate the man’s presence, though, and to behave more civilly towards him, wanting to avoid discouraging the more enjoyable moments they shared together.

Freeza wasn’t one to reward poor behavior, after all.

With his lord becoming more bold, and the touches more intense and pleasurable, it wasn’t long before Vegeta found himself waking up to his bed shifting after the lights had gone out. Hands explored, all over, the prince keening his appreciation, and he’d only been further elated when Freeza’s mouth joined the fray – lips on his own, tongues tangling, and then wetness along his neck. It only got better from there, having teeth nipping at his shoulder, trailing all the way down to his chest, and Vegeta had especially enjoyed having his nipples teased, nibbled and licked and suckled until the skin there tingled at every touch, his blood alight with craving and breath coming in short bursts. Having a hand between his legs after that, stroking and squeezing right where instinct screamed he needed it most, had swept away any and all remaining thought left in the Saiyan's mind.

He couldn't have resisted even if he'd wanted to.

The tyrant had spent the entire night with him, kissing and caressing him until he was brought to an explosive orgasm, his very first, and when his cries had died down, Vegeta had simply laid there in a haze of bliss, utterly content to let Freeza do as he pleased.

The lizard hadn’t taken him then, was still mindful of how and when to push for more - “I don’t want to frighten you, my little prince...” - but that night, and for the first time, he’d focused on his own pleasure, as well. Settling between Vegeta’s legs, Freeza had rutted his barely-sheathed member up against the boy’s rear, making sure to keep his ward fully open to his attention, driving him once more to the brink of sensation and beyond, then doing it all over, again and again, each climax seeming better than the last. When his lord finally finished, seed coating the skin just shy of the prince’s entrance, it was with Vegeta clinging desperately to him, deep in the throes of his own release and moaning into the tyrant’s mouth.

If everything that had passed between the two before then wasn't an indicator of the kind of relationship they would have, that moment sealed it.

It also sealed how his nights on Freeza’s station normally went.

More often than not, he would wake up to darkness and the shift of his mattress, cold hands peeling away his bed-clothes – up until the point he decided to stop wearing them, at least – and an even colder mouth hungrily claiming his own. Vegeta lost count of how many times it happened, having Freeza slip into his cabin in the dead of night, eager for the pleasure they shared, but he never complained. He had no reason to, for he slept better afterward, and deeper than usual, once he was nestled in the overlord's arms, dreams – nightmares – lost to the sheer exhaustion left in the wake of their play.

His lord always called it ‘playtime’ when he mentioned it – up until the Saiyan proclaimed his maturity and 'playtime' became 'stress relief' – though he only ever spoke of it in times they were alone together. He’d told Vegeta that it was a private matter, just between the two of them, something that was dreadfully improper to discuss with others, and the prince hadn’t thought to question it, because he’d never heard anyone else speak of such affairs, either. “Ready for playtime?” he might be asked; not that Freeza even needed to ask, because the boy nodded every time. Why wouldn’t he? It was fun, and it felt great!

By the time Freeza started acclimatizing the prince to penetration, fingers and tail teasing him open in ways he could never quite get enough of, Vegeta was more than willing to play along with whatever new game his lord might dream up for their private enjoyment. Just before the initial insertion, before he’d spread his legs for the tyrant of his own volition, drunk with lust and undeniably curious, the Saiyan had been asked one simple question. The words had ensured that he never felt any fear when he was with Freeza, never grew uncertain or discomfitted around him. Not when they were alone together, at least, and fully exposed as they were.

“Do you trust me, dearest?”

Why wouldn’t he? Nothing in their play had ever harmed him; had only ever brought him great pleasure, in fact. With that knowledge in mind, Vegeta had nodded, and Freeza’s reward for his answer only served to delight the boy, just as expected. Nerves already strung achingly high, the tyrant having lavished him early on with enough attention to leave him trembling with desire, Vegeta wound up screaming in ecstacy the moment his lord's touch teased its way inside him. Freeza had purred his approval, having the prince rocking down on his fingers – needy and hungry for more – and as he brought the boy closer to climax, he whispered of how good the Saiyan was, how lovely and amazing; his _cherished prince_ , better than all others... _ **perfect**_.

With those words ringing in his ears – _good, lovely, amazing, cherished prince, better than all others, **perfect**_ – Vegeta was brought to yet another orgasm in Freeza's arms, shaking in rapture and, of his own volition, initiating a kiss with his lord for the very first time.

The Saiyan still despised his employer, and always would...but he couldn't deny that he _loved_ what they did together.

The more open and agreeable Vegeta became when they were alone, the more Freeza was willing to introduce his prince to. Some parts weren't as fun as others at first, the tyrant slowly coaching him on how to give pleasure in return, but the boy warmed up to it in time. All it took in the end were plenty of fond looks, gentle caresses, and encouraging words, flattery and praise that had him glowing with a different kind of pleasure, the young warrior's reluctance crumbling beneath the cunning hands and silken voice of his employer.

He wound up particularly fond of laying on his belly before the tyrant, having gentle hands threading lovingly through his hair as he kept his mouth and tongue busy, aiming to please as all the while a sleek tail thrilled him from within, easing slowly out and then in again to hit his most sensitive spot every time. Vegeta had even found himself growing to enjoy the taste of his lord's essence, body warming with lust simply to _think_ of that bittersweet salt on his tongue, for Freeza had made sure that it only ever signified additional pleasure in the Saiyan's mind. Every time he'd opened his lips to take in the overlord's thick member, lapping and sucking and swallowing greedily around it, Vegeta had been thoroughly rewarded with the blissful filling of his backside, and with skilled fingers roving over his heated skin to roll and pinch at his touch-starved nipples.

Soon enough, the Saiyan was brought to moan with rapture simply at the feel of Freeza's hard flesh sliding between his lips, at having the emperor's taste on his tongue, and his lord praised him all the more for it. The harder Vegeta would strive to please, the more he was praised and pleasured in return, until he would sometimes drop to his knees of his own accord, mouth watering and a sensual purr winding in his throat as he worked at the man's arousal, desperately craving the spill of his seed.

The first time he'd done it, Freeza had laughed, a dark and satisfied chuckle that sent shivers of anticipation down Vegeta's spine, all the way down to the tip of his tail. Something in the sound had been sly, almost victorious, but with his mouth around his lord's member, long and large and mind-blowing in all the best of ways, the prince hadn't been able to care. He'd been more turned on in that moment than he'd ever been in all of his fifteen years of life.

The moment he'd finished, licking from his lips every last drop of the tyrant's essence so he could swallow it all down with a moan, Freeza had carried him to bed – _his_ bed, not Vegeta's – for an entirely new kind of fun. The prince hadn't been fully satisfied, had needed _more_ , and he recalled asking for it, for the lizard to fill him up, to bring him to that dazzling flash of what was surely the closest thing to heaven the boy would ever get.

And Freeza had delivered.

By _gods_ , had Freeza delivered.

Vegeta hadn't expected it, not even when he'd harbored his own secret fantasies, thought and dreamed of what it might be like to be penetrated – not from the front, but _behind_ – with his lord's perfect member. So when his ankles were pressed over his head to leave him pinned and open, when one swift stroke of a finger had his needy entrance slathered in oil, letting Freeza squeeze inside his prince with one long and deep moan of complete and utter satisfaction, Vegeta had screamed himself raw, coming with bursts of stars behind his eyes after not even five hard thrusts of that gloriously thick shaft.

The tyrant spent hours with him that day, fucking him into mindless, blissful oblivion, and the boy had loved every minute of it. He even encouraged it and begged his lord aloud – more, please, harder, faster; right there, _right there!_ – wailing in ecstacy every time his lord spilled within him, setting off his own release each time and without fail. Playtime became a nightly ritual after that, and once the game was over, the young prince would settle comfortably against Freeza's chest to fall asleep, no longer in the cabin assigned to him, but safely within the dictator's own personal suite, large and luxuriant and everything Vegeta believed he deserved to have.

And so it had gone on, each and every night he'd spent aboard the tyrant's station, for many long years after.

Still, he didn't love Freeza. The hatred Vegeta held for the lizard never lessened from the moment they'd met, only changing shape to form an odd sort of conflict, comprised of far too many simultaneous emotions at once. Respect and disdain, attraction and disgust, comfort and unease, understanding and confusion, acceptance and frustration, generosity and envy...all of those and more, melded into one solid feeling that rushed to the forefront whenever the Saiyan found himself faced with his employer.

Whatever that feeling was, he still called it hatred. Which was why it was no trouble at all for Vegeta to leave, glad to learn of a way he could have his greatest wish granted, and just as gladly looking forward to having the hated lizard fall before his power. He could admit that he would miss their games, more than a little, especially when he didn't know how to approach anyone else in such a way; he'd been taught to keep such matters to himself, after all. Still, as enjoyable as it had been, having his legs wrapped tight around Freeza's hips and brought to one burning release after another, in a way that never ceased to delight him...Vegeta didn't want to spend the rest of his life that way.

He much preferred the idea of freedom, and control over his own destiny, to spending every last night he had left tangled in Freeza's embrace.

So in the end, it didn't matter _how_ much he'd loved it.

The Earthlings know nothing of how he'd lived before, though, no doubt believing that Freeza had forced him into it against his will, and Vegeta has a feeling that trying to explain what had happened isn't going to help. He can't even figure out why they're so ill at ease with the idea in the first place, and he doesn't want to risk asking. When he finally speaks, the other Saiyan's question still a riddle in his mind, the prince's voice is tentative, and he doesn't have much to say.

"It...was fun. It felt good. That's...that's why he called it what he did.”

It's not a proper response, not to what Kakarot had been asking, and somehow Vegeta knows it. But he still doesn't know the answer himself, and now he's not so sure he wants to think about it any further. If he does, he might discover that he has to admit that – once again – he'd been made into a victim.

That he had been _weak_.

Vegeta leaves the room shortly after that. He can't bear the looks the others are giving him, looks that say without words that he'd somehow allowed Freeza to take advantage of him yet again, and in a way that he doesn't even really understand, so he gets up and walks away. The prince has no answers for any of their questions, can't accept any words of condolence – of _pity_ – that some of them will certainly have for him, and, most of all, he doesn't want to hear _anything_ of what they think of his past with the lizard.

What few good memories Vegeta has left have already been tainted enough.

**Author's Note:**

> I can't recall ever seeing a fic where Freeza ISN'T sadistic during sex. I tried to fix that here, but it I think it just ended up making him even creepier. Whoops! :D
> 
> Also, trying to include how Radditz and Nappa reacted to what was obviously going on kept messing with the flow, so I stopped caring and just wrote them out entirely. Again, dark times. But in case you're wondering what the fuck, they knew better than to say or do anything about it, because FREEZA.


End file.
